


Spare some smiles for me

by rydia



Series: The upswing [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (although it doesn't really touch on route specifics beyond recruitment), Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Grief, Pre and Post Timeskip, Some Angst (With A Happy Ending), relationship is post timeskip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26778103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rydia/pseuds/rydia
Summary: Byleth enjoys the smiles of her students, but she quickly learns that not every smile is true, or means that someone is happy. She also learns that not everyone smiles easily, including Felix Fraldarius. He's more likely to frown, and lash out with biting words.It's only when they share their grief does she even begin to realise just how difficult it can be to smile.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth, Jeralt Reus Eisner & My Unit | Byleth
Series: The upswing [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922080
Comments: 14
Kudos: 79





	Spare some smiles for me

Byleth enjoys the smiles of her students. It doesn’t really matter what the reason is – although she likes it when she’s done something to make them smile, like when she remembers their favourite tea or their birthdays – each of their smiles make something warm inside her, some kind of contentment that she’s never experienced before.

She gauges her own progression as a teacher – and, perhaps, as a friend – by some of their smiles. Claude, for one, because his smiles are guarded and cold, and when they finally begin to thaw, Byleth is pleased. A smile from Marianne is hard won – as is one from Leonie, but for very different reasons. When Sylvain joins her class, his smiles are barbed; a weapon he uses. And then Felix… well, at first, Byleth thinks that he doesn’t seem to smile at all.

Felix seems to have a constant furrow between his brows and a scowl on his face that Byleth thinks deepens whenever she talks to him, and it begins to frustrate her, making her want to reach out and smooth his brow. Why, after all, did he transfer into her class if he didn’t like her?

“ _You know the answer to that_ ,” Sothis answers for her, arch as ever. “ _That child is obsessed with beating you in a swordfight. He’s rather peculiar, isn’t he?_ ”

But Sothis isn’t entirely correct. Felix is obsessed with getting better – getting stronger – and for him, defeating Byleth is a sign that he’s achieving his goal.

So Byleth trains with Felix far more than she does with any of her other students, and she wonders if someday – when he beats her, because he eventually will, she knows – if that will make him smile.

*~*

Felix does smile, of course. The first time Byleth sees it is when it’s directed at Annette – which makes sense, because Annette is sweet and cheerful, and Byleth enjoys being around her, too.

They’re in the dining hall, some distance away from where she’s is sitting, so she doesn’t know what Annette has said to make Felix smile, but Byleth finds she can’t look away.

It’s a small smile, just a tiny upturning at the edge of his lips, but his eyes have softened as he watches Annette, who is animated as she speaks, waving her fork around.

Byleth watches, unabashed, until something catches Felix’s attention, drawing his eyes away from Annette, and causing a shadow to fall across his face. He frowns, face going sharp and angry, and that furrow appears between his eyes again.

She follows his gaze and sees that he’s watching Dimitri cross the dining hall, and she sighs to herself, still not understanding Felix’s attitude with the prince, and not liking how Felix’s face has darkened.

She misses the smile.

*~*

Felix often scowls, and is rude and acerbic even to people he calls his friends. Sometimes even especially to people he calls his friends.

Byleth doesn’t understand it, but then, she’s never been among people like this before. Her life before Garreg Mach had been… quiet, in a way. She knows that might sound strange to those who call her the Ashen Demon, but the only person she really spoke to was her father, and they enjoyed being silent together. They could sit for hours beside a river, fishing and drinking, and exchange only a handful of words, and it was comfortable. And it’s not that she’s unfamiliar with brash, rude people – she _is_ a mercenary, after all – but watching Felix attack his friends with the same precision he uses in battle unsettles her.

Byleth watches Ingrid, angry, and wounded, her lips turning downwards as she strides away from Felix. She watches Dimitri, who forces a smile that looks like a grimace and accepts each harsh word like he deserves it. And then there’s Sylvain, who also keeps smiling, except he does it like he doesn’t have a care in the world, and he nods as Felix speaks, as if in agreement.

“Not like you to let one get away.”

Byleth startles slightly as her father nudges his knee against hers, and then frowns, realising she’s let her catch get away. She and her father are sitting side by side at the pond in Garreg Mach. Jeralt had initially wanted to find somewhere outside the monastery to fish, but he’d told Byleth with a dark expression that the Archbishop had requested he stay within the grounds.

She reels back in her line, suddenly feeling troubled, and then sits with her rod in her hands, motionless.

“Kid? What’s wrong?” Jeralt’s voice is low, and Byleth turns to him to find him looking at her with concern.

“I…” Byleth trails off, because there’s a lot of things wrong. Not just her father’s suspicion of Rhea, and the unsettling way Rhea treats her. There’s Flayn’s recent kidnapping, and the Death Knight. There’s trouble brewing.

And… there’s all the things her father never told her and that Byleth doesn’t know how to ask about.

But in that moment, what Byleth is most worried about is Felix.

“One of my students,” she says slowly. “He’s…” She frowns deeply, searching for the best way to describe it. “Angry. Spiky. I want to help him. I want him to smile more.”

Jeralt’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “That part of your job, kiddo?”

She shrugs. That doesn’t matter to her. “I want to help, but he’s not interested in anything other than training. He doesn’t even have tea with me.”

“Ah. The Fraldarius kid.”

“How did you know?”

He laughs. “That boy is always training. He’s even pestered some of the knights to train with him. Good to see some discipline among the noble brats. But you’re right, he is angry. And _spiky_.” He says the last word with some mirth.

“He’s mean to his friends,” Byleth says, hoping her father can shed some light on it. “I don’t understand it.”

Jeralt sobers at that, and turns away to look out over the still water of the pond, shimmering under the sunlight. It’s a few moments before he speaks again. “You know… the longer we’re at the monastery, the more I realise that I’ve done badly by you.”

Perplexed by change in topic, she asks, “Why?”

“It’s been good for you, being around people your own age. You’re changing.” His face softens even as his voice remains as gruff as ever. “Not in a bad way. In a way that makes me realise that all I taught you were how to use weapons and read a battlefield.”

She blinks at that. “But–“

“I kept you alive,” he goes on, shaking his head. “But what else?”

“Dad.” The way he’s speaking troubles her, not least because it’s been something she’s been beginning to wonder herself. But Byleth doesn’t like to see Jeralt like this. One of his hands rests on his knee, closed in a tight fist. Byleth gently rests her on hand on it, curling her fingers around, hoping to make him feel better. “It’s okay.”

It’s not, not really. And both of them know that. But Jeralt lets out a long, slow breath and finally looks back at her. He sighs, and his hand relaxes under hers.

“You look so like your mother,” he says wistfully. “She’d have done a much better job at this than me.”

Byleth’s breath catches. ”She–“

“The Fraldarius kid,” Jeralt interrupts, all business again, and Byleth knows she’ll hear no more about her mother right now. She withdraws her hand, picking up her fishing rod again as Jeralt speaks and swallowing down her disappointment. “What do you know about the Tragedy of Duscur?”

She takes a deep breath, once more uncertain about the sudden change in topic, but guessing her father will bring it back around to Felix soon. “King Lambert was killed at Duscur during a diplomatic trip to the region,” Byleth recites. After hearing enough of the students mention it, she’d done some reading. “His wife was also killed, and only Prince Dimitri survived. In retaliation, the people of Duscur were slaughtered.”

“That’s the bones of it,” Jeralt mutters darkly. “We were in Faerghus, when it happened. All anyone could talk about.”

Byleth doesn’t remember that. She’s beginning to be bothered by how little she recalls. How little she _knows_.

Her father goes on. “The entire royal guard and diplomatic party was killed too. Including the eldest son of House Fraldarius.”

Despite the warm sunlight bathing them, Byleth suddenly feels cold. “…Oh,” she breathes out.

“That would be the brother of your Felix. Now, I don’t know anything about either of them, but I’m pretty sure something like that would make anyone angry.”

Byleth contemplates this as she methodically attaches the bait to her rod and then casts it into the pond again.

_Felix’s brother_.

For someone who has killed more people than she can count, Byleth has been untouched by grief. Her first experience had been trying to speak to Ashe after the death of Lord Lonato. Ashe isn’t her student but she’d thought… she’d thought she might be able to help. He’d looked so sad.

But she hadn’t known what to say, and she doesn’t think she helped. Ashe had remained despondent.

Still, being sad made sense. She could _understand_ that.

But anger…

“I can understand why he’d be angry about it, but he’s angry at people he’s supposed to be friends with. Sometimes he’s cruel.”

Jeralt sighs again, a heavy and weary sound, weighed down by long years. “We often hurt people we care about, Byleth.”

Frustration pulls at her. “But–“

“It’s grief, kid. You hurt so much yourself, it’s too big for your body. It gets out.”

That doesn’t help. She glares at the water and Jeralt glances sidelong at her, realising his answer isn’t enough.

“Look at it this way. You know how a wounded animal will lash out even if you’re trying to help it?”

She nods.

“Same thing,” he states simply, like this explains everything. “The pain makes it hard to see clearly, or react in the right way.” He pauses. “I hope you never have to feel that way yourself, Byleth.”

He lets her think about that, and they remain silent for a long time, reeling in fish that they’ll later bring to be cooked in the dining hall and shared among everyone.

And Byleth does think about it – all the rest of that day, and then again when she sees Felix next. She doesn’t ask anything about his brother. It seems wrong to do when he hasn’t mentioned it himself.

But still, now that she’s looking, Byleth can see the pain under the anger. And what’s more, she sees the concern – how Felix protects others in battle, how he gently stopped Annette from tumbling down some steps when she was carrying too many books, how he berated Sylvain for being reckless even as he checked him over for injuries and forced a vulnerary down his throat.

His anger doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.

And the more she watches, the more she realises how very much Felix _does_ care.

*~*

_You hurt so much yourself, it’s too big for your body. It gets out._

Unfortunately for both Byleth and Jeralt, she does come to learn what that feels like, all too soon after that conversation. And she understands then, when the anger is too much to bear, and it’s twisted up in helplessness at not being enough to stop what happened. When it feels like her entire being is taken up with grief and pain, when there’s no space for anything good, or happiness, or peace.

But Byleth doesn’t take her anger out on other people. She lets it sit inside her, worrying Sothis. And she imagines the moment she will get her revenge against the girl that killed her father.

And when that moment comes, Byleth breaks ranks, dashing away from her students and running after that girl.

And in the process, she’s pulled into darkness and loses something else to escape.

Sothis.

And from her mad dash for revenge, Byleth gains nothing except the experience of being startled by the colour of her hair every time she catches her reflection.

And now, she’s just tired.

“You’re distracted,” Felix tells her in an accusing tone, taking a long gulp of water from his canteen.

Byleth regards him, both of them sweaty and disheveled after their bout. “I still won.”

He narrows his eyes. “Again,” he demands. “And this time, give me your all.”

But she doesn’t move, trying to identify the feeling bubbling up inside here. There’s so many of them – new feelings that seem to grow stronger and stronger with each passing day.

She gives up trying to put a name to it. “I’m tired, Felix,” is what she tells him, but he’s having none of it.

“That doesn’t matter when you’re on the battlefield. It’s all the more reason to push yourself now.” He pauses. “If you’re concerned about this Holy Tomb business tomorrow, forget about it. Distractions must be banished from your mind.”

With an unexpected flicker of amusement, Byleth realises that to anyone listening, it sounds like Felix is the teacher. But it doesn’t last long, because then she can’t help but wonder if this is what he’s told himself ever since his brother died.

“Alright,” she says, “but before that, can I ask you something?”

His eyes flick to hers briefly, looking surprised at her serious tone and request. “What?”

But then she hesitates, wondering if what she wants to ask is insensitive, and shakes her head. “Never mind.” She raises her sword, hoping to distract him with that. “Let’s do this.”

Felix looks annoyed. “No. What were you going to ask?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“Felix–“

“ _No_. Don’t start something you can’t finish.” His eyes narrow into slits as he looks at her, annoyance written all over him. “Just spit it out so we can spar. If you weren’t such a worthy adversary, I wouldn’t even waste my time with this.”

He’s impatient, and Byleth can’t help but think she’s made a big mistake and he’s going to get angry at her. But still, she does the only thing she can think to do now – and is honest, dropping her arm back to her side.

“You don’t have to answer me, but all I was going to ask is… is how you dealt with it, after your brother died?” He jerks back in surprise, a look of pain crossing his face, and Byleth immediately feels terrible. She hastens to go on, lowering her voice but speaking quickly, trying to explain. “I’m finding it difficult, since my father…” She trails off, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

Felix shifts and turns away from her slightly, gaze running along the walls of the training grounds with a face like thunder, and Byleth grimaces. She’s definitely made a huge mistake asking him this.

Finding her voice again, she says, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer. Let’s spar.”

His head jerks – she’s not sure if it’s a nod or a dismissal or anything at all. But he makes no move to lift his sword or turn back to her. She fidgets, restless, until he answers, still staring at the wall.

“It was unbelievable,” he finally says in a low voice. That’s all he says for a moment, before he swallows heavily and Byleth sees that even the passage of years hasn’t made this easier for him to speak about. Her guilt at asking deepens. Finally, Felix says, “ _Unbelievable_ to think that Glenn wouldn’t be coming home. He was–“ He stops once more, turning further away from her, but Byleth doesn’t miss the rapid blinking of his eyes.

She feels even more terrible. Just as she opens his mouth to tell him he doesn’t have to do this, Felix starts talking again.

“They only brought back his armour. They tried to fix the dents, and they had cleaned off the blood. Polished it.” He sneers. “Like one whole side of it hadn’t been blasted apart. My father still has it on display. We don’t have a grave to visit, but at least we can look at the armour he died in on our way to dinner.”

Byleth squeezes her eyes shut, like it might help block out the bitterness in Felix’s voice, like it might stop him talking, like it might make everything okay.

For the first time she considers turning back the hands of time outside battle and never asking at all because she feels like she’s doing what Felix has done to others; she’s hurting the people she cares about because of her own pain.

But she doesn’t, and she’s not sure why. Instead, she listens.

“When we heard the news, that Glenn had died in service to the royal family, my father– my father said, “ _He died like a true knight_ ” like it was okay that Glenn was dead because of the manner in which he died.” Byleth opens her eyes to find Felix has turned back to her, eyes blazing, hurt and furious. “So, Professor, how do you think I felt?”

Byleth isn’t entirely sure if he’s looking for an answer, but she responds anyway. “Angry.”

His hand tightens around the hilt of the training sword he holds until his knuckles turn white. “At least you had a focus for your anger. You got your revenge.”

She shakes her head. Byleth hadn’t been the one to kill Kronya. And that mysterious mage, who’d appeared even when Byleth turned back time, is still alive, somewhere. But that burning desire for revenge has left her – it has ever since she’d been transported into that dark world.

But she’s not going to argue with him on that. She knows what he means. Instead, she tells him, “I still don’t know how to…” Byleth trails off, trying to figure out the right way to describe it. Go on? Live? Be happy?

But she doesn’t need to. “You fight,” Felix says, somewhat bleakly, a contrast to his anger from only a moment ago. He looks away from her again. “Get stronger. Protect–“ Flushing, he cuts himself off suddenly, like he’s afraid he’s said too much. Rolling back his shoulders, he shakes out his arms and raises his sword at her. “That’s enough talking, Professor.”

She nods, accepting that, though still worrying that she’s hurt him with this conversation. So she does as he asks, hoping that will make things better.

“Alright.”

Byleth readies herself, deciding to take his advice and push all the distractions out of her mind, and it’s not long before Felix comes at her as he always does, quick and strong, but still not enough to take her down. He’s just not quite there yet. And Byleth, on her part, gives him her all, feeling like she owes him that much.

In the end, they’re both gasping and bruised, but it’s another win for Byleth.

But, still… “That was good,” she says approvingly. “You’ve come a long way, Felix.”

He flushes again at that, and she’s not sure if it’s out of embarrassment or pride. “I’ll surpass you soon,” he promises, in a manner that reminds her of their conversation at the Goddess Tower not so long ago, even if by now it feels like a different lifetime. It had been a conversation so ridiculous, the memory of it makes Byleth smile.

It actually feels strange to smile – it’s not like she smiled often herself, despite enjoying seeing others smile. And she certainly hasn’t been smiling since her father died.

But Felix had answered her question about his brother when that couldn’t have been easy. As she thinks about that, Byleth realises for the first time just how much she likes being around him, and she thinks, now, that she might understand him a little better.

And as much as she’d like some day to see him smile at her, when that furrow appears between his brows, she can’t help but smile wider. His consternation just seems… cute.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he grumbles, eyes darting around like he wants to look at her face but is embarrassed about it. His face goes even redder.

She only shrugs in response and steps forward, intending to take the training sword out of his hands so she can put it away. He watches her approach, eyes now trained on her smiling face. When she reaches out to take the sword from his unresisting hand, their skin touches briefly and Felix jerks back like he’s been scalded.

Her smiles fades. “Sorry,” she mutters and turns away, striding over to stack the swords with the rest of the training weapons.

When she turns back around she finds Felix in the same place, now regarding her with wide eyes. His hand clenches and unclenches.

“Are you alright?” Byleth asks, slightly concerned.

He gives a jerky nod. “I’m fine,” he snaps. But then he softens – just slightly, glancing away before looking back out of the corner of his eye. “Are you?”

The question makes her want to smile again. It makes her feel warm. “I think… I think I will be,” she tells him. “Thank you.”

He grumbles something under his breath that she doesn’t quite catch. Louder, he says, “I didn’t do anything.”

“You did.” She comes to a stop in front of him. “And you were right. I can’t afford to be distracted when it matters. It’s something my father always told me, too.” She smiles again, even though now it hurts. “I miss him.”

Felix nods, eyes downcast. “I miss Glenn, too,” he says, quietly, voice far away and less biting than she’s ever heard it. “I think I always will. Even now, sometimes I see something, and I think, “ _Glenn will like that_.” Or “ _Glenn will find that funny._ ” And then I remember, and it’s like losing him all over again.”

Her unbeating heart aches for both of them. “I’m sorry if mentioning him hurt you.”

She sees that furrow of his brow again, and he raises his head, eyes slightly glassy but his expression fierce. “No. I understand why you asked. But the least interesting about Glenn is how he died. He was so much more than that.”

Byleth wonders what kind of person Glenn was. It’s obvious he’d been important to Felix, and someone he loved. “Will you tell me about him sometime?”

His lips part in surprise at the question. “I’d… like that. Will you tell me about your father? I’ve heard stories about the Blade Breaker. I’d like to know the truth.”

She nods, and while it still hurts, the smile feels a little easier again. It’s better, to think of Jeralt as he’d been when he’d been alive, than to think about the way he’d died and the hole now left in her life.

“He told me once that you pestered the knights to spar with you. He said he liked your discipline.” No need to mention that Jeralt had also used the words _noble brat_ to describe him.

Felix looks pleased by the praise. His back straightens. “I’d like to hear more, sometime.”

“Alright,” she replies simply.

There’s a beat of silence between them, and it’s good. Comfortable, like they’ve reached an understanding.

And that makes her smile, yet again, and Felix shakes his head with a little scoff that has no bite in it. He turns away from her, this time heading towards the entrance of the training grounds, but Byleth doesn’t miss it – she sees the blush across the back of his neck, and the corners of his mouth rising, and the way his cheeks lift, and knows there’s a smile on his face.

By the time she catches up with him at the entrance and they walk through to the courtyard beyond, his lips have flattened out again, but his eyes are still soft and warm as he looks back at her, like the smile hasn’t quite left them yet.

“Get some sleep, Professor. You’ll need all your strength for the holy tomb tomorrow.”

The mention of it makes some anxiety flare up inside her, not knowing what to expect from it. But she steels herself. “You, too. We all have to ready.”

He concedes this with a silent nod, and as Byleth watches him ascend the stairs to his room, her thoughts about what tomorrow might bring drift away for something more pleasant, as she considers when next Felix might smile for her.

Hopefully she’ll get to see it.

*~*

Byleth wakes slowly. It’s a luxury, one she still relishes even now, years after the war, in which peace has allowed them the privilege to enjoy a little softness, here and there.

She hears her husband move quietly about the room. He still tends to wake earlier than most, and she guesses he’s getting ready to go to the training grounds, because some things never change, and even in peace, Felix keeps his blade sharp.

“I know you’re awake,” he murmurs from across the room, voice sliding over her like silk, and Byleth hums in response before stretching out languidly.

She hears his footsteps come closer and opens her eyes, pleased to find the room still dim and Felix dressed only in loose trousers. His hair is a mess – from her own hands the night before – and down around his shoulders. It will annoy him later, when he has to comb it out. Beyond him, she notices the fire freshly built up and blazing away. It’s been cold recently, and she dislikes walking up to a frigid room, and gratitude swells in her chest as she realises he got out of bed to fix the fire for her.

Turning on her back, Byleth stretches out again, the blankets tangling about her, while Felix watches her with fondness.

“Good morning,” she rasps, blinking lazily up at him and smiling as she admires the way he looks.

His lips turn up in response, a wry smile that says he knows very well that she’s ogling him.

Byleth has had time, over the years, to catalogue his smiles and learn them. Embarrassed smiles, smug smiles, the kinds of half smiles he tries to hide, the way he smiles at cats, the lazy, satisfied smiles he holds after they’ve made love – she loves them all. She’s long since lost count of the number of times she’s seen these smiles – all of them – and had him direct those smiles at herself, but that doesn’t mean the response they elicit in her has lessened.

“Get back in bed,” she demands.

An eyebrow arches at that. Coolly, he asks, “Are you going to make me?”

In response, Byleth kicks the blankets off herself completely, saying nothing and revealing her naked body to him, keeping her face stern as she watches his reaction.

Felix’s other eyebrow raises, and his eyes slowly trace down her body and then back up again until they meet her eyes.

“A compelling argument,” he finally says in a dry voice, before breaking out in a laugh as he pulls his trousers off, clearly content to let her win this time.

Byleth never gets tired of hearing Felix laugh. It makes him look so happy and light, even with the pain and grief he’s been through. Life has not always been kind to either of them. It has taken just as much strength to be able to laugh like this – to allow themselves to be happy – as it had taken to win the war.

Perhaps it’s a different kind of war, Byleth supposes.

Her gaze softens as he clambers back onto the bed, pulling the blankets back over both of them and curling himself around her. Felix presses his face into her neck, and even though she can’t see it, she feels his lips curve against her skin.

Neither of them speak, the only sound their soft breaths and the crackling of the fire as they both drift back into a peaceful sleep, smiles on both of their faces.

**Author's Note:**

> I was just thinking about how Byleth likes smiles so then I wrote this instead of working on the other things I should be writing. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
